


Dark Compulsion

by Artrix



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Gen, Mind Control, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-03-19 08:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13700805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artrix/pseuds/Artrix
Summary: Dracula has enough of Alucard’s rebellion against him and when the trio ascends the castle, he intervenes. Alucard becomes an unwilling pawn and is forced under his father’s control; Trevor and Sypha are the only people who stand a chance at stopping Dracula—and saving him.[Request]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the request: “How about a prompt where Dracula managed to mind control Alucard to try and return him to his side and Trevor has to snap Alucard out of it before he kills them. And it's just so wrong because Alucard isn't this way, he's not a fighter or a killer by nature he's a healer/doctor and Trevor kind of hates Dracula more for doing this to Alucard, for turning him into that kind of puppet, than he does for Dracula unleashing hell on humans.”

For six days straight, the trio had been tackling the castle and all its obstacles. They were battered, but far from beaten. None of them had slept for more than an hour or so at a time, and perhaps that was what gave Dracula the advantage. 

There were no footsteps, no noise to indicate that he had appeared, and it wasn’t until his piercing voice echoed through the empty chamber they were passing through that they were even aware of his presence.

“Adrian.”

Alucard twisted to face his father with what appeared to be cold indifference. Trevor growled and gripped his whip as he spun, and Sypha stiffened and glowered at the floating vampire.

Dracula hovered a few feet above the ground, adding to his already imposing height. His cape whipped around him but there was no wind in the room. He added, in the same bitter, scolding tone, “Stop this foolishness.”

Alucard’s face remained impassive, but his voice was as sharp as his fangs. “You stop, Father. This has gone on long enough.”

Dracula was not moved by the words; he narrowed his eyes. Spitefully, he spat, “You know nothing.”

“I know this isn’t what my mother would have wanted.”

Dracula hissed. “ _You_? _You_ seek to tell _me_ what she, _my love_ , would have wanted? No son of mine was raised with such insolence.”

Trevor and Sypha didn’t move, but it was clear that they both would have rather attacked him than listen to him speak. They didn’t dare take their eyes off of him, but neither did they want to disrespect Alucard so greatly by attacking his father. Neither had any hope that conversation would cure the issue at hand.

It was only a matter of time before violence broke out.

Alucard persisted, perhaps the only one hopeful that words could change anything. “Father. I cannot ask again. The humans meant no harm. Please, stop.”

Dracula might as well have been a statue, if not for his cape and the movement his mouth made to form each word. He did not seem to breathe, to blink, and his expression barely seemed to change. “You cannot tell me they meant no harm when all they did was harm her. I warned her, you know. About them.”

There was a pause, but Dracula was not finished speaking.

Coldly, he added, “And you.”

Alucard stiffened, torn between confusion and anger. He stared at his father with an intent gaze, but Dracula needed no one to convince him to continue.

“I warned her that she would make you soft. And look.” Dracula moved now, gesturing towards his son before him. “You, here, with two humans. And you really think you could defeat me?” His voice dripped with venom. “No,” he added, short and cold. “I give _you_ this one last chance to join me, Adrian.”

It was subtle, but Alucard wavered. He looked up at his father with knit brows and he _swallowed_. It was enough that both Trevor and Sypha held their breath; Sypha kept her gaze fixated on Dracula, but Trevor tore his attention from the hovering vampire to the blonde at his side.

The seconds passed too slowly and in the minute time span it took for Alucard to respond, it felt like an eternity had passed. His voice was piercing and firm: “No.”

His companions breathed a silent sigh of relief, able to focus their attention once more on Dracula.

There was no immediate outrage, no screaming or flurry of attacks. Just a quiet, “Hm.”

Slowly, he shook his head. “This was never a choice, Adrian. You have always been mine. I won’t lose you.”

There was something menacing in his words; he hadn’t been upset that Alucard declined his offer. But then, he didn’t have to be.

Dracula’s eyes flashed red and a split second later, Alucard’s glowed the same, eerie way. His body seemed to alternate between being both limp and rigid, but neither Sypha nor Trevor had the luxury of examining Alucard and his affliction—not when Dracula was such a threat already.

The second he unleashed his dark magic, they lunged. A stream of flame from Sypha’s extended finger reached Dracula in the same instant that Trevor’s whip should have made contact with the vampire’s scowling face. Only, neither attack hit. Instead, Dracula’s form shimmered and faded into a hazy mist that promptly reappeared. His eyes had returned to their natural dark color, but Alucard’s seemed to retain a strange, reddish tint. 

Dracula looked at the two humans with disdain. “You have given me enough trouble. I don’t have time for you.” His voice became demanding, suddenly—“Adrian.”

The dhampir looked up at his father wordlessly; no longer did his body seem to tremble and twist unnaturally, but he moved with a strange stiffness.

“Dispose of them, and join me in my study.”

The mist dispersed suddenly, sending a rush of cold wind throughout the room. Though Dracula was gone, a heavy presence weighed down the room.

For a moment, nothing moved. Trevor was rigid, still posed as if he were ready to strike out with his whip. Sypha’s eyes had darted from the empty space where Dracula had been to Alucard, by her side.

Again, time seemed to drag on. Trevor watched Alucard from the corner of his eyes, and just when he thought he saw Alucard relax, the dhampir attacked. It was unexpected, and Trevor barely had time to step back. He had only time enough to raise his arm and block Sypha from the sudden onslaught of Alucard’s claws.

Their companion moved with a strange franticness, like a wild animal in fear of its life. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes were wide and piercing—unnatural against his relaxed face. 

Trevor was close enough that he could see the fear hiding behind Alucard’s expressionless face. He could see the blatant disconnect as his body moved of his own accord and as his mind struggled against it. Trevor was so lost in his Alucard’s eyes that he didn’t feel the searing pain as his sharp nails dug into his arm.

Sypha screamed his name from behind him and he could barely make out, “Trevor, _move_!”

But he couldn’t. He was entranced by Alucard’s eyes, trying to find some clue, some weakness that would break the spell Dracula had laid upon him.

Sypha was more alert; Alucard yanked his hand back to deliver another blow at Trevor but, prepared, she waved her hand and a gust of wind threw the dhampir back. It was a defensive magic; she didn’t want to hurt him any more than Trevor did.

But Alucard had no restraint. Though the wind flung him back a few feet, his appearance flickered. Too fast for human eyes, he was gone from his spot before them. 

Trevor and Sypha stood quickly, back to back. Alucard appeared not before them, but _above_ them. The walls of the room were tall, and this section of the castle had reminded Trevor of a cathedral, only it had no windows or pews or any trace of God. He’d been unnerved since they’d reached this wing, but now was the first time he had real need to fear.

Alucard had made his way up the wall, nearly to the ceiling, and ripped his clawed hands against a gargoyle that had been carved into the structure. It split from the wall with no small effort, but Alucard didn’t stop there. He darted from one to the next, tearing anything he could from the wall and sending it hurling down towards them.

At first, Trevor didn’t think much of it; they were easy enough to avoid. What he hadn’t counted on was the structure of the floor failing. In a castle built of stone and magic, architecture wasn’t Trevor’s primary concern. The first gargoyle hit the ground and Trevor was so distracted by avoiding the second one that he missed the way the surface bowed. The wood of the floor splintered and by the sixth collision, a large portion of the ground had begun to bear some damage.

And Alucard was still moving.

“Trevor,” Sypha warned, “We’re going to run out of places to move. This ground isn’t stable.”

“I know,” Trevor grumbled; he’d been searching for a way out, but Alucard was too much of a threat right now. If they turned their backs on him, it left them too vulnerable—and in this state they didn’t know what they could expect from him.

Or, at least, there was nothing good for them to expect.

Alucard had moved from tearing the sculptures adorning the wall to anything he could sink his claws into; a large panel of stone suddenly crashed across the room from them, tearing a hole straight through the floor. The whole room rumbled, but even in the chaos of it all, one thing was clear—they didn’t have much time. The stone had hit the floor, torn right through it—and kept falling.

The room was their enemy as much as Alucard was.

“I need you to distract him,” Sypha urged.

Trevor couldn’t decline. His brows furrowed and he nodded. It wasn’t ideal by any means, but he wasn’t going to die here. And, maybe he’d always wanted to knock a little bit of sense into Alucard. Not like _this_ , but he’d never get the chance to do it his way if they died here.

The procrastination wasn’t just based on emotions; Trevor had been watching Alucard. Whether deliberate or unintentional, Alucard’s careful, practiced tactics meant that sometimes he was predicable. He always moved the same distance before stopping to tear something off the wall. 

He was nearly out of reach, even with Trevor’s whip, but a few quick calculations and a little reckless maneuvering was all Trevor needed to make his move. Even as Alucard’s form flickered from one location to the next, Trevor was already targeting the empty space. He’d bolted across the room and hurled himself towards the wall. The angle was enough that it let him propel himself off of it, giving him the little extra bit of height he needed to ensure his whip could _reach_ Alucard. The whip slashed into the dhampir’s leg, but more than that, it wrapped around his ankle.

Alucard hissed with the immediate surprise of pain, but it was the sudden, violent yank _downwards_ that really caught him off guard.

Trevor had used the whip as a grapple more than a weapon, and even with Alucard’s grace and speed, he still plummeted towards the ground the same as any of the debris he’d hurled at them.

There was no time for celebration; Trevor pulled the whip back to him and prepared for the worst—which was, perhaps, the only reason why Alucard hadn’t killed him yet.

Not that he hadn’t tried, though. He was on his feet almost immediately after colliding with the ground. He charged at Trevor at the same time the hunter lunged at him, but Trevor’s brute force and added momentum was enough to compete with the dhampir’s superior strength. Though they met in the middle of the room, Trevor was able to slam Alucard back towards the wall.

Alucard hissed and squirmed as Trevor pinned him. Trevor had caught him at an odd angle, and managed to severely limit what movement either of them could make. It wouldn’t do much to change the course of battle, but it bought Trevor time to take a page out of Alucard’s own book.

“Alucard,” he said firmly, trying to draw his attention. He didn’t know what Sypha was planning, but he trusted her. He would buy her whatever time she needed, and he would do whatever he could if it meant saving Alucard. “You need to listen to me. You can fight this.”

Alucard had no words for him; Trevor didn’t know if it was because he couldn’t speak or because he couldn’t focus enough on words, but Alucard _hissed_ at him, like some feral creature in the back of a cave. Like some vermin, some thoughtless, hopeless creature of the night who knew only to hunt and kill. Who had no empathy, no thought, no compassion.

No life.

Trevor had killed too many vampires like that.

It hurt him to see Alucard like this.

Words were useless, the same as when Alucard had tried on his father. Trevor’s moment of weakness shouldn’t have existed; it gave Alucard just enough time to break free of his grip and shove him towards the center of the room. Alucard bared his teeth and aimed for Trevor’s throat—and then, wide-eyed, paused.

Trevor had no warning sans that; the room suddenly erupted in bright light and heat, and a booming noise that made his ears ring. Alucard was flung backwards, but something held Trevor in place.

The hunter was disoriented, but Alucard was far more affected by the blast than he was. His eyes were squeezed firmly shut and his hands were covering his ears—the downside to superior senses. 

But Trevor had no time to relish getting the upper hand; the ground had suffered the worst damage of all of them and it was finally giving way. While Alucard was pressed against the back wall, Trevor and Sypha were still in the middle of the rapidly failing ground—which was, apparently, Sypha’s plan.

By the time Alucard’s vision had somewhat returned, the center of the room had completely crumbled. His vision was swimming, blurry still from Sypha’s magic, but he moved to the edge of the platform and peered down the great black hole. In the darkness, he could make out two things—the running water of the underground caverns and the falling form of Sypha’s bright blue robes.

Debris fell with the cloak, but Alucard saw two distinct collisions with the water, and then the unmistakable sight of the raging water swallowing Sypha’s clothes. 

Alucard stood stoically and peered down into the darkness for a long moment. He hesitated, body rigid as if he were considering jumping down, himself.

Whatever temptation he’d felt fled shortly after the thoughts had blossomed in his mind. He was not in control of himself or his actions, and with Trevor and Sypha out of the picture, he had another command to follow.

His father wanted him in the study.

With an agonized growl, Alucard’s form melted, replaced by a strange mist that morphed into a flurry of bats. The faint flapping of tiny wings echoed through the room, slowly replaced by silence as he departed.

A moment passed, and nothing moved. 

Trevor’s hand was slick with blood from an injury he didn’t remember taking; his grip on his whip faltered just slightly. He inhaled sharply and clenched his hand into the tightest fist he could make.

The other end of the whip was coiled against an exposed pipe, hidden beneath a small bit of debris. He hung several feet below the dilapidated floor, shoved into a crevice too tiny to offer any real support. He pinned Sypha to the wall using his weight and what little foothold he had. It was the best he could do in his effort to try and give her a little extra security. She clung to him, stony faced and peering over his shoulder at the opening they had fallen from. 

Looking down wasn’t going to bring any of them any comfort; she was more interested in making sure that Alucard had left—and planning how they could get back up to safety.

Their hearts were pounding erratically, but each of them carefully controlled their breathing, afraid of making any noise that might alert someone that they were still there.

Trevor’s head was tucked downwards, chin to his chest—not because of comfort or nefarious desire, but because it was the only way he could _fit_ in the little hole in the wall they were hiding in.

It was no wonder Sypha grew uncomfortable with the position after a moment; she had shed her cloak as a distraction, knowing if Alucard had no proof that they had fallen, he would search. They were even more vulnerable where they were now, but she felt it more so given that she’d lost a significant portion of her attire. Her shoulders and arms were mostly bare, and her chest was concealed only with thick strips of fabric that were wrapped tightly from her breasts to her hips. Her black undershirt had been badly burned in the explosion, and the scraps that hadn't burned away were barely clinging to her. Though her robes were only fabric, she felt like she’d lost her only armor.

And _Trevor_ was shoved against her.

Her preference for personal space aside, they needed to get out of here. “I think he’s gone,” she said quietly.

“I’m going to have to trust you on that,” Trevor mused; this position gave him no chance to scope the area out himself.

“You did before,” she reminded.

“I did,” he agreed. “Still trying to figure out if that was a good idea.”

“You’re alive, aren’t you?”

Trevor grunted. One arm was wrapped around Sypha’s middle and he was afraid if he let go, he’d lose his balance. “Not sure for how long that’s going to be. We need to get back _up_ before we can say that.”

“We’ll get back up,” she insisted, but she was drained. Trevor could feel the way her body slumped against his, and he didn’t blame her after the sheer force of her last magic. 

Trevor wasn’t the type of person who could just let someone down, so he drew in one last breath and, gruffly, muttered, “Hold on.”

Sypha complied with more strength than he thought possible, but she had surprised him in so many ways so far that it wasn’t even entirely unexpected. When she was firmly gripping him, he freed his hand from around her waist and grabbed the handle of the whip with both hands. Swinging was not necessarily easy enough with one person, but with two it was extra strain and Trevor was suddenly hyperaware of the injuries he’d taken from Alucard.

But they were moving, and there was no backing down now.

The whip creaked from their weight, but Trevor never had any doubt that it would support them. It held fast and true, and for a moment he struggled to build enough momentum to get them close to what was left of the solid floor above them. Twice, he thought he was close enough but doubted at the last second. He was in good shape and well trained, but even exhaustion could take its toll on him—and right now, he was seconds from losing the battle.

Sypha could tell, though; without needing Trevor to say anything, on the next swing she used what energy she had left to summon a gust of wind that gave them the extra burst they needed.

They lacked dexterity and grace and landed in a heap on the floor—but, regardless of the haphazardly tangled limbs or uncomfortable rocks digging into their flesh, they could relish the fact that they were _alive_.

Trevor clutched the hilt of his whip tightly in one hand and didn’t bother trying to push himself off of Sypha. She was warm and comfortable and _soft_ and he was tired and injured.

She was not unsympathetic and offered him a moment of rest before she grunted and half-heartedly elbowed him. “Ugh, Belmont. You are crushing me, get off.”

Reluctantly, he complied, although he made very little effort to do so. He rolled from atop of her and lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling above them. The scars of battle were still so fresh in his mind that he almost expected another statue to be hurled down at him.

His head lolled to the side and he looked across the rest of the floor, torn up and destroyed.

Next to him, Sypha sat up. While she needed her own rest, she was wise enough to know that they couldn’t stay here. She was preparing to move, and he needed to be ready to as well.

“We should backtrack. Two hallways back, there was a small room. It’s out of the way and covered in dust. No one has used it in some time, and with only one door it would be hard to sneak up on us. We should rest there.”

Trevor agreed; wearily he flicked his wrist and wrestled with his whip until it untangled from the rod he’d secured it on.

He did not speak until they had pushed their way back into the safety of the small room. It had little in the way of commodities, but four walls and a door that locked was all he could ask for right now. Once he and Sypha were inside, he bolted the door and collapsed against the nearest wall.

Sypha was a bit more graceful, but even she collapsed into a seated position across from him.

The ever present candles illuminated enough for him to get a decent look at her. He could see the small blemishes—dust and scratches, and the goosebumps that peppered her flesh. Some of her black sleeves remained in tact, but the tattered threads would likely not hold for long. It was only then that Trevor realized how cold she must be; he was burning up from the strain they’d just endured, but there was a perpetual chill in the castle and without her robes she was particularly weak to it. The bandages across her chest offered little warmth. His eyes fell to them instinctively; they were tight enough that he could easily imagine her form beneath them.

He didn’t stare. Instead, he scoffed and diverted his gaze to a corner of the room as he reached up to scratch his chin. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sypha moving, but he was taking advantage of the silence as he replayed everything that had transpired. He wanted it fresh on his mind so he could assess it, make a plan.

Anger broiled in the pit of his stomach, not just at the loss of an ally but at the _unwilling_ loss. Alucard wouldn’t have betrayed them; he was passionate about his mother’s request and he wanted to bring peace. Trevor could see how difficult his father’s betrayal had been for the dhampir and it made his gut twist in agitation and rage.

Dracula hadn’t cared. He was blinded by revenge and would destroy the last good thing he had left in the process.

Trevor scoffed and tore his gaze away from the shadows in the corner; he didn’t know how much time had passed, but Sypha had removed the sash from around her waist and was carefully sewing it into what looked like a makeshift shirt. His eyes found her trembling fingers and he narrowed his gaze when he saw just how _red_ they were.

Blisters, he realized. She’d burned her hands when she made the explosion during the fight.

Trevor had preferred to solve things with brute force, but he truly didn’t know where he’d be if he hadn’t had Sypha earlier. He would have fought Alucard until they killed each other, or until Dracula got fed up of waiting and dropped in while he was exhausted to finish the job. But Sypha, she always seemed to have something up her sleeve. 

They’d both been able to determine that the room wasn’t as sturdy as some of the other parts of the castle they’d had to fight in, but it was Sypha who decided an explosion to finish the job would be best. She must have known Alucard would have been sensitive to the light and sound, and while he was recoiling she had pulled Trevor away. He’d known what she was doing as soon as she yanked him to the newly formed hole, but throwing her cloak down had been clever. A speaker would not willingly part with the robes that defined them, nor with the only protection she had from the elements.

But Alucard would have been suspicious, and the cloak plummeting into the raging waters below had been enough to convince him, albeit half-blinded, that he had completed the task his father commanded.

Trevor grunted and pushed himself up; he took the needle and thread from Sypha’s hands and flopped down next to her. When he settled, he lined the needle up to the line of thread she’d started and began to sew easily three times as fast as she’d been going. His hands moved nimbly; he may have been a Belmont, but he was no stranger to small tasks like this. The road was a harsh place, and Sypha’s hands were damaged enough that she didn’t need to be straining herself with something like this. She was putting herself through unnecessary pain and he couldn’t just sit by and let her suffer when he was capable enough of completing this task.

The action confused Sypha, though; she seemed surprised and blinked at him. Stunned, she watched him for a moment before she came to her senses and huffed. “I could have done it myself.”

“Yeah, I know,” Trevor grunted. His eyes were on the needle as he wove it through the fabric in a line straighter than Sypha would have imagined him capable of. 

Sypha was a prideful woman, but Trevor’s response reminded her that she didn’t need to constantly defend herself against everything. She was a woman, and most men regarded her as inferior.

Trevor had voiced disdain for speakers and their riddles, but he had treated her no differently than any of them. It was refreshing, to be seen as an equal. To be needed. Sometimes his brash behavior and rude words caught her off guard, but that was just _him_.

He didn’t look down on her. They were allies in this, and it would have been unreasonable and foolish to demand he return her work to her when she was only going to cause herself pain. She fell quiet and watched him.

Trevor wore a distant expression while he worked and after a few moments of silence, Sypha couldn’t bear it anymore. “You have something on your mind.”

He grunted in response, but she pressed, “What is it?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. He pursed his lips and bit the inside of his cheek. His gaze was intense on the little needle and his brows furrowed in frustration—not at the task, but at the difficulties in expressing himself. Finally, he confessed, in a tone more hardened than he needed to use, “I’m worried about him.”

Sypha nodded; her head hung after a minute and she sighed. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s not to understand? A vampire’s hypnotic, and Dracula’s old enough he’s probably perfected the damn technique. Of course Alucard would be susceptible to it, he’s his own flesh and blood. I should have known. I should have stopped it.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Sypha added. “It’s not your fault. Or his.”

“I know,” Trevor muttered; he pulled the thread taut as he finished the seam. He reached for one of the knives on his chest and severed the thread before he began tying it off. “It just happened so fast. I don’t know what I was expecting.”

“He wasn’t expecting it either.”

“Well— _no_ ,” Trevor scoffed, “I thought Dracula’d just try to kill us. What he’s doing is depraved. He doesn’t care for his son.”

“He didn’t kill him,” Sypha reminded, but she was contemplating.

“No,” Trevor agreed, “But he’s not doing him any favors. Alucard doesn’t want to do this. He’s trapped in a body puppeted by a monster. You should have seen his eyes, Sypha. It wasn’t right.”

Sypha hadn’t been close enough to see his eyes but she glanced up at Trevor intently. “His eyes?”

“Alucard’s strong. Maybe not as strong as his father, but I’d bet my life that he was fighting it.”

Sypha nodded. “…Do you think he can break it?”

Trevor held up the garment and gave the seams a tentative tug; when they held, he passed it back to her. “I don’t know,” he answered earnestly. “I hope so.”

Hope might not be enough, but Sypha felt a lump in her throat and didn’t trust herself to carry on conversation without being overcome by emotion. She was tired and frustrated and stressed an worried, and Trevor only had _hope_ that Alucard could recover from this.

She accepted the fabric gratefully and slipped it on. It was a little tighter on her than her robes had been but it covered what it needed to and gave her the warmth she’d been craving. Most of her arms were exposed, but she hadn’t cut the fabric while sewing and if she stood up, the fabric would fall to a little above her knees. She used the extra length to wrap around herself and nestled against the wall.

She was quiet, but after a few seconds she leaned over and rested her head against Trevor’s shoulder.

He tensed, but slowly he relaxed against her. 

They hadn’t meant to sleep, especially without someone watching guard, but it was impossible to fight exhaustion. Resting against each other was some small comfort; they succumbed to fatigue within only a few seconds of each other.

-

Dracula’s study had been an intimidating place, and even with the haze of his father’s control, Alucard could faintly recall how horrible the room had always felt. As he entered the room, he remembered how small and vulnerable he’d felt when he discovered this place as a child.

Nothing good ever happened here.

Everything was fierce and imposing; the walls had jagged edges and the architecture seemed like it was designed to be as threatening as possible. More than that, glass and furniture had been shattered and left strewn across the ground. Papers and books were torn apart, scattered haphazardly.

And yet, Dracula was more imposing than any of the chaos of his study.

His eyes were narrowed and his face impassive as he stared into the floating mirrors in the center of his study. Alucard could see vague shapes in the glass but he couldn’t make out anything recognizable. He didn’t know what his father was watching, but as soon as he was near enough, the fragmented mirrors turned dark and Dracula looked over to him.

There were no formalities, just a cold, blunt, “They are gone?”

Alucard found his voice again, though it was ragged and quiet. “I left them to the aqueducts.”

Dracula’s eyes narrowed. “So not dead.”

Alucard swallowed the lump in his throat but insisted, “I don’t know. The current took them.”

For a moment, Dracula did not respond and then, after the knot in Alucard’s stomach had twisted so tightly he thought he might double over, his father finally hummed a thoughtful sound. He shrugged indifferently. “The creatures down there will make quick work of them if the water hasn’t already.

Dracula’s control was not strong enough to prevent the pained expression that crossed Alucard’s face. The faintest moisture prickled in his eyes, but he could not even bring himself to tear his gaze from his father’s face.

Of course, Dracula noticed. He sneered, “You really have gone soft.”

Alucard was silent and though he tried to keep a straight face, the moisture only continued to build.

Something in Dracula shifted, and something about him seemed to soften. He almost sounded sympathetic when he said, “They do that.”

He was no longer looking at his son and instead had directed his gaze to the pillar of floating mirrors that spiraled slowly before him. “They worm their way into your heart. Make you _weak_.” But, the softness was gone, replaced with a growl. He shook his head. “Never again, my son.”

Alucard did not move; the most he could do was blink away the moisture and try to compose himself.

Dracula did not look at him, but after a pause commanded, “Go rest.”

Against his will, Alucard found himself compelled to dip his head. It was half nod, half bow, and he turned to leave.

Dracula’s voice halted him. “I did this for you.”

It did not take long for his father to continue, “I cannot lose you. You are all that I have left of her. I cannot let you destroy what I have done to keep you safe.”

Alucard was not facing his father; his hands curled into fists and he trembled. It was a small satisfaction to feel like he had even only faint control over his body. “You did not do this for me.”

“No,” Dracula agreed. “But the world I build from the ashes of humanity will be. Now, go. Clean yourself up, you’re filthy. And rest. I need you at your best. You and I will be very busy.”

Alucard’s small rebellion was short-lived; he could feel Dracula exerting more pressure onto his mind. His body was still awake, but his mind was a losing battle. He felt like he was drifting into sleep, teetering on the edge of consciousness. He fought it, but the darkness came crashing down on him regardless.

“Yes, father.”


	2. Chapter 2

It was dark outside when Trevor and Sypha parted from their small sanctuary. Such wasn’t particularly surprising, considering that there always seemed to be an eerie cloud cover around the castle. The skies seemed perpetually tinted red, by sun or moon, and half the clocks they’d encountered were visibly broken. The other half _worked_ , but no two clocks showed the same time.

They could infer only that they must have gotten at least a few hours of sleep, judging by the fact that some of their energy had returned—and that they were hungry. Rations were slim but neither complained. Trevor carried only small pouches, mostly weaponry and utensils for his hunting. Sypha carried balms and salves and the necessary tools for _living_. They were down to a few strips of meat and two stale pieces of bread.

But, they were alive, and fueled by determination.

The castle was a labyrinth; they wound up backtracking the same floor twice before they found the hidden staircase that lead upstairs, but they’d lost time.

They’d lost a lot of time.

Without Alucard, the castle was far more difficult to navigate. Every room brought a new obstacle; the monsters were one thing, but the _traps_ were another. Trevor could identify the creatures they faced with relative ease, but the traps came in too many unpredictable forms and they’d been caught unawares more times than he cared to admit.

Thankfully, their skills combined meant they continued to ascend the tower fairly unscathed, only it was at the cost of comfort and time.

Slowly, the creatures of the night seemed to appear less and less, and nearly a full day passed without them seeing _anything_. The castle seemed to be buzzing with energy, but there wasn’t a soul around. They walked quietly down a hallway that seemed to extend forever; every step they took brought them only fractionally closer to the doorway at the end of it. The walls were lined with doors and hallways, but there was no telling where they lead. It was almost too tempting to divert their course down another path, but Alucard had long ago warned of the Castle’s trickery. The infinite corridor was daunting, but they were determined not to be misled, no matter how frustrating the walk was.

Halfway down, the foul smell of rot reached their noses. Sypha grimaced and raised a hand to cover her mouth. The aroma was horrifying and reminded her of Gresit—only _worse_.

The scent grew stronger as they continued on; Trevor’s face was set in a firm grimace and Sypha was struggling not to gag. She knew the scent of death, but this was too overwhelming. She had tended to the sick and dying but the rot that permeated the room was nauseating.

A large, open hallway intersected the one they were following and they nearly walked past the opening when a low, guttural growl echoed from around the corner. The froze, suddenly aware that they were not alone.

“My lord,” the voice hissed, as if in awe and reverence. “I did not expect you back so soon.”

Dracula’s cold voice was as stern and uninterested as ever. “Your mess seems to be spreading. I thought I told you to confine your meals to a smaller location.”

Trevor’s hand was on his whip and Sypha was bracing for the worst. Neither of the voices were coming closer but a strange, dark magic rippled through the area with enough force that they expected Dracula to appear before them, legion in tow.

“We have tried, my lord,” the voice replied. “This is not by our doing.”

“No?” Dracula challenged. “And yet, is this not your sustenance? Are these not your teeth marks? I provided you adequate room to feed yourself and your kind. There are not so many of you that you need _three_ rooms. My castle is not a dining hall.”

An animalistic whine, loud and imposing, echoed from whatever beast was addressing Dracula. “My lord,” it tried again, speaking as respectfully as it could manage. Words eluded it, and it murmured, “Your son…”

Trevor’s heart sank as a cold fear washed over him. Sypha nearly gasped at his side and he caught her raising a hand to her mouth. Dread twisted in the pit of Trevor’s stomach and he gripped his whip together, desperately straining to hear the conversation.

“Is that so?” Suddenly, Dracula didn’t seem so agitated. Trevor could almost imagine some sort of sick mirth dawning on the vampire’s face. Anger, searing hot, twisted in his stomach and rose up to his throat. If he were certain it was Dracula in the room he would have attacked, but he couldn’t risk that the creature in there was merely another illusion. They’d kept their presence secret for this far; if Dracula knew they were still alive, he may send an army to attack them.

Or worse: Alucard.

“Perhaps I do not mind the mess so much, then,” Dracula continued. “At least he isn’t disappointing me.”

The demon grumbled lowly but did not speak for a moment. Instead, Trevor could make out the sound of something scraping against the floor—talons?—and a thud, as if something were being moved. Bodies, he imagined. “The young lord does not seem himself.”

A bold statement to the lord and master of this castle. Trevor waited for Dracula to chastise the demon, or slaughter him on the spot, but he could only barely make out his response. “He is coming into himself. Give him time.”

“Time,” the demon repeated contemplatively. Trevor could hear the hesitation in the creature’s voice. He hated demons, and all hell spawn, but he clung to the creature’s words. “My lord.” The demon was trying to appeal to Dracula’s ego; Trevor could hear the apologetic tone the it took even before it asked, “How long do you think he has?”

“Eternity, if all goes well.”

It wasn’t what the demon meant, and it whined lowly, reassessing its wording. It did not attempt to correct Dracula but instead, added, “Yes. But he is not always so willing, is he?”

Dracula grunted in response. “He is willing enough. He has done what I asked.”

“Yes,” the demon purred. “But, I wonder…”

Agitation slipped into the vampire’s voice; the demon was pressing its luck. “What?” he asked flatly.

“His mind,” the demon said swiftly, “How long do you think he will fight before it breaks?”

“I do not know,” Dracula replied, once more with indifference. “But this nonsense will end soon enough. Every day brings us closer. Ideally he will stop resisting and follow our goal willingly so we don’t have to find out.”

Trevor wondered what bond Dracula must have had with this demon if he was so willing to share with it his thoughts and hopes. Trevor could not see the man as being friendly to his underlings; demons were pawns—creatures sent to do his dark bidding. They meant nothing and had wavering loyalty. This demon must have been special or was intended to serve some greater purpose, but it was thought for another day. Trevor cared far more about Alucard than the demon’s status.

“But, if he doesn’t...” the demon prompted warily; it didn’t finish the thought.

“Then I will kill him.”

The hunter’s stomach sank further as he listened. Sypha tensed at his side; her eyes were cold and focused blankly before her as they eavesdropped.

Dracula continued unprompted. “He may be my son, but I would rather him dead than opposing me.”

The sound of something large moving interrupted the conversation. The demon growled as if it had exerted itself before mumbling, softer than before, “Is that not ruthless, my lord?”

The vampire scoffed, as he was concerned with such things. “Adrien will either learn, or he won’t. I cannot waste time on a weakness. If Adrien is a liability, I will stop him. Even if that means destroying his mind in the process.”

It was difficult to control the rage that surged through him. Trevor had a difficult time holding his tongue or refraining from attacking, especially one as well-warranted as this, but before he could do anything irrational, he felt Sypha’s hand curl around his wrist.

It wasn’t enough to calm him, but it was enough to remind him that now was not the time.

Another echo, stone grating against stone, reverberated through the room, and though Trevor could faintly make out the sound of voices, before long they were gone.

Trevor and Sypha were alone again. The Speaker had only just released her grip on Trevor’s wrist when he stormed around the corner, as if he _dared_ Dracula to be standing there.

He wasn’t.

Only a floor covered in human corpses, maimed and half eaten. There was no discrimination--young, old, male, female. Children.

It was enough to make even _him_ sick, and before Sypha could join him in the entrance, he placed a hand on her chest and pushed her back. The touch was gentle, but firm.

Her mouth opened and a protest was on her lips, but when she looked at his face, she silenced herself. She was not some damsel that needed to be protected, but Trevor looked so unnerved by the carnage that she held her tongue.

“A soldier,” she said quietly.

Trevor’s eyes narrowed and confusion stained his face.

“The prophecy,” Sypha murmured. “A scholar, a hunter, and a soldier. We three were destined.”

“I’m not following where you’re going with this,” Trevor answered hoarsely. He could taste death in the air.

“Alucard was not a soldier before he met us,” Sypha continued. Her eyes were on the ground. “But if he doing his father’s bidding, in his father’s war...isn’t that what he is now? The sleeping savior, I understood. But the soldier part, I had wondered about…”

“Yeah. Well, I guess he fits the role now. But he’s on the wrong side.”

Sypha’s lips pursed; she and Trevor had not spoken much of Alucard in the past few days. She could feel the tension radiating off of Trevor and knew that he expected the worst, but she was still clinging to her hope.

“I have faith,” she announced—proudly. “The prophecy will be fulfilled. Alucard will be on our side before the end of this.”

Trevor didn’t want to argue with Sypha; her optimism should have been refreshing, but he couldn’t erase the vision of corpses from his mind. “We’ll know soon enough.”

He kept his body between her and the bloodbath, a shield for a sight he didn’t want her to carry with her. Sypha’s faith had carried him this far. He would let her imagine what Alucard had done, but he would not let her confirm it. His hand rested on her back as he guided her away from the room.

Sypha did not try to look past him. She kept her gaze firmly ahead of her. When they were down the hall a bit further, Trevor lowered his hand from her back but he did not stray far from her side. They walked side by side.

When the scent of death had thinned from the air, Sypha spoke again. “If we attack Dracula, he will summon Alucard. We have to stop him before he has the opportunity.”

Trevor nodded grimly; defeating Dracula without a time limit seemed like an impossible enough task, but to slay him _before_ he could pull Alucard from his side?

…They couldn’t fight both of them.

If Alucard was truly so far gone that he could slaughter a room full of innocents—if Dracula was so convinced that Alucard was under his thumb…

If Dracula had the power to keep Alucard’s mind trapped beneath his will…

He and Sypha didn’t stand a chance.

But they’d sure as hell try.

-

The higher they ascended, the colder it got. The air became strangely dense and Trevor felt the unnatural weight of Dracula’s presence even before they found the monumental door leading into his study. A dragon’s face was carved into the enormous door with such detail that Trevor at first thought they had one last obstacle to defeat before they could face the vampire.

Sypha inhaled deeply and rolled her shoulders. She was every bit as determined as he was.

This was their last stand.

The people of Wallachia would not survive Dracula’s onslaught. It was not hubris that reminded Trevor that they were the only hope—it was fact. Only the Belmonts had ever had such reputation for hunting monsters. Only the Speakers had such control over their magic, and such knowledge of all things unnatural.

They looked at each other with silent comprehension, nodded, and charged the door.

Despite the height and weight, it slid open after only a brief struggle.

Still, it took enough time to open that it was enough to thwart their plans to _surprise_ Dracula. He had not seemed immediately concerned; he must have assumed it was someone he trusted enough to enter _his_ domain.

It gave them mere seconds to strike before he was alarmed. Trevor attacked first not with his whip, but with the flask of holy water he carried at his side; he uncorked the bottle and flung it at the vampire. It exploded on Dracula’s face, searing into his skin.

Dracula gasped in horror and recoiled, but Sypha waved her hand and made as much use of the water as she could; from the dampness, spikes of ice pierced through the air—and him.

She could not see how deeply the ice had cut, but even Dracula bled when they tore through his skin.

Trevor moved from one attack into the next fluidly; the holy water had blinded Dracula, albeit temporarily, and he hoped that it was enough to get one _lethal_ strike of his whip in. All it took was one, so he put everything he had into brining the whip down as hard as he could across Dracula’s front.

The whip made contact; it split from the vampire’s forehead to his naval and he reeled in pain.

But he did not die.

“ _Enough_ ,” he roared. His voice echoed like thunder in the night—and it almost even sounded like a storm was brewing outside. The air thickened and crackled, and there was no denying that Dracula had suffered a terrible injury.

It just wasn’t lethal.

And suddenly, Dracula had regained the upper hand enough to summon a distraction.

Four great demons appeared in the room in a flash of blinding red light.

Four great demons, and Alucard.

Trevor’s stomach sank immediately, but there was still time for things to get worse.

From across the room, Dracula hissed, “ _Kill them_.”

There was no hesitation; the demons lunged at the duo.

Alucard moved slower, but he held out a hand his long sword materialized in his grip.

These demons were not so unlike the creatures they had rallied against in Gresit, only these were larger. Their mouths hinged like great snakes but their limbs were thick with muscle and sinew. Their talons scraped against the ground as they charged. They did not speak with any intelligence, but they were clearly trusted in Dracula’s court if he had summoned them with his son.

There was little time for contemplation or weakness; Trevor’s whip shot out and lashed around one of the demon’s necks. The leather tore through fur and skin and bit down into bone. It was a lucky shot; Trevor yanked his whip with such ferocity that he could hear the echo of snapping bones even as the beast’s body was flung across the room.

It twitched awkwardly, but its open eyes were lifeless.

Sypha held her own easily; one of the great beasts hurled itself through the air and she raised her hand to summon a powerful gust of wind that caught its underside.

She swiped her hand through the air and the gust of wind followed; the demon collided with a great stained glass window with a furious howl.

From the open window, red light filtered through the room as the glass shards scattered. The creature’s screeching faded rapidly as it plummeted downwards.

The two other demons had targeted Trevor; the first to reach him raised up on its hind legs and snapped its great maw only inches from his face. Trevor could not maneuver the whip with such short distance between the two, but he managed to unsheathe his sword and pierce the demon’s gut. The blade may have been shattered, but it was still sharp enough to tear a good few inches into the beast. Stunned from the attack, the beast collapsed atop of him and was almost instantly crushing him with its full weight.

It was still snapping at him, and all he could think to do was shove it off of him. The movement was awkward and haphazard, but as the demon stumbled back a few feet, Sypha attacked from behind. Blue flames lit up its spine, spreading rapidly. The scent of charred flesh perforated the air and the demon desperately clawed at itself to try and extinguish the flame.

It did more damage to itself in the process; flames licked over every surface of its back and it continued to tear into its flesh. It collapsed in a writhing heap across from them.

The final demon was upon Trevor even before the last had succumbed to the flames; it caught him off guard and even as Trevor turned to face it, he felt the hot stink of its breath on his neck as the piercing fangs attached to his skin.

He expected pain, but it did not come. Blood splashed across Trevor’s face and he wondered if he was already so close to death that he was numb to it.

But the fangs did little more than scratch against his throat, and suddenly the demon was slumping limply against him.

Alucard’s hand was covered in blood; he held the still pulsing heart of the demon in his hand.

Trevor felt relief wash over him but it was short lived. Any hope that Alucard had rejoined them faded when he caught sight of the dhampir’s lifeless eyes. Alucard dropped the heart carelessly to the floor and gripped the demon’s mane instead. He shoved the demon’s body off of Trevor. The demon’s now lifeless corpse had been the only barrier between Trevor and Alucard and the hunter suddenly regretted that the beast was gone.

Alucard had murder in his eyes.

Theirs was a battle Sypha did not have the luxury to interfere with; three demons were undeniably dead, but one relented. Gutted, burned, and maimed by its own desperation, Sypha nearly missed the creature clawing its way closer to her. She had set her eyes on Dracula, hoping to take advantage of him while he was distracted.

Across the room, away from the bloodshed, the vampire had doubled over. His face was in his hands, but he was far from defeated. Energy swirled around him, and every second he was left alone, he seemed to grow a little stronger.

Sypha could not waste her magic on a demon that was only barely clinging to life—not when Alucard and Dracula were still threats. Her hands had only slightly recovered from the last time she damaged them, but she had burned herself so often before that she was nearly numb to the pain at this point. She backed closer to the window—to the glass debris that was scattered across the room. A large shard barely clung to the frame and she quickly raised her dress so she could grab it safely in her hands.

The demon was clawing its way towards her; she glanced at Dracula, at Alucard lunging at Trevor, and at the demon. 

Small battles could win the wore.

She raised the glass over her head and slammed the shard as hard as she could through demon’s skull.

Trevor grunted as he was slammed against the wall; Alucard had raised the sword but he did not bring it against the hunter. Yet.

There was an emptiness in his expression that hadn’t been there before; his eyes were no longer alight with desperation. Trevor didn’t know if Alucard was even fighting against his father anymore, and he could feel the crushing disappointment swelling within his chest.

Desperately, he tried to shove Alucard away from him without actually hurting him. “ _Alucard_ ,” he plead, “ _Stop_!” He enunciated each word with unbridled desperation. “This isn’t _you_!”

Alucard said nothing. His grip loosened only slightly, but there was no recognition in his face. The release was not an act of kindness; he needed to free his hand so he could swipe his hand through the air and fling Trevor a few feet to the side. Trevor rolled and just barely managed to avoid Alucard’s sword as the blade slammed into the ground where he’d landed. He scrambled to his feet and ran, trying to put enough distance between himself and Alucard that he could use his whip.

Or, maybe, he was just prolonging the inevitable.

His blood was cold and the crushing reality was finally setting in.

Alucard was lost to them.

Dracula had won that battle. He couldn’t afford to pull his punches for any longer.

Sypha stumbled into a standing position; the glass shard fell from her hands and clattered loudly against the floor. Blood was splashed across her clothes and had made its way onto her face, into her hair. 

The demon below her was dead.

Trevor was once more distracting Alucard and hope pulsed through her once more. Dracula had not yet returned to full power. She had never considered herself to have the strength of either Alucard or Trevor, but she was vital in this battle. She didn’t think she alone could finish Dracula off, but all she needed to do was distract _him_ for long enough to give Alucard a chance.

Trembling, she advanced on the vampire. Her hand was raised, poised to attack, but Dracula surprised her by suddenly raising his head. He hissed loudly enough that it shook her to her core. Her heart skipped a beat.

Dracula’s hands clenched into fists at his side. His nails pierced the flesh of his palms and dripped fresh blood on the ground below. It pooled too quickly to have been an accident, and she realized too late that the blood was sizzling. Suddenly, Dracula spread his hands and a haze of toxic fumes spread from him.

She yelped, startled, and gulped one breath of fresh air before the yellow haze reached her.

It sizzled against her and she squeezed her eyes shut as she stumbled backwards, but the damage would have been much worse if she hadn’t already been preparing to hurl Dracula against the wall behind him. She had summoned a wall of wind at the last second, and though the fumes had reached her, she managed to send them right back into Dracula’s face.

He was thrown off balance and collided with the wall, stunned by her magic and the blow. She didn’t know if the fumes would have any effect on him, but it was enough that they were away from her--and that she’d _hit_ him.

Trevor wanted to yell for Sypha to pull back, to get _away_ from Dracula. She was no match for him alone—none of them were. He didn’t dare call out to her; he couldn’t risk distracting her now. She was scrubbing at her eyes viciously and Dracula was picking himself up.

Alucard did not seem to waver; even with Dracula distracted, the blonde was bringing his sword down upon Trevor again. This time, it made contact. Fresh blood spilled from the injury and Trevor inhaled sharply as pain sprung across his chest. He had to tell himself it wasn’t a severe injury but the truth was that he had no idea. He couldn’t assess the damage because Alucard was suddenly inches from his face and pressed both hands against Trevor’s chest. His nails dug into the fresh injury and the sword clattered loudly on the ground where he’d dropped it.

Trevor held his whip in one hand, and one of his small knives in the other. He doubted Alucard even knew that the cold metal was poised over his heart.

Trevor would stake him. Trevor would kill him.

Only, this time, he couldn’t afford to die in the process. Not until Dracula was dead.

But, softly, in one last effort, he plead, “Alucard. Please.”

His voice was hollow and full of more emotion than he had ever mustered before. “I can’t do this without you. We need you.”

Softer, no more than a whisper, he managed, “I need you.”

He braced for the pain of teeth once more. He braced for the claws trying to dig its way into his chest, to his heart. He was ready for Alucard to try and gore him.

But Alucard did not move closer. His hands lingered, pressed against Trevor’s chest. His breath was hot on the hunter’s neck.

He faltered.

For a split second, Trevor caught his eyes and he saw a flash of gold. He _hoped_ , with all his heart, that this was not some delusion of blood loss and adrenaline.

Alucard removed one hand from Trevor’s chest and let it fall to his side. His sword rattled from where it lay on the ground. He did not remove his gaze from Trevor’s; the hilt of the sword found its way into his palm and he gripped the weapon tightly.

Sypha’s eyes opened in that moment and she stared, horrified. Her eyes met Trevor’s but she could summon no words. She watched everything in slow motion, transfixed by the sight of Alucard lifting Trevor above his head. He clutched the front of the hunter’s shirt.

She could see Trevor staring down at Alucard, she could see his brows furrow. She could see the way he dropped the knife and raised the whip.

She didn’t see Dracula’s dark form until she felt his cold weight against her. His teeth tore into her neck with no resistance.

Alucard struck.

He gripped the front of Trevor’s shirt tightly as he held him up and raised his sword—but Alucard suddenly moved so rapidly that Sypha lost sight of them. What she _did_ see was Trevor tumbling through the air—towards her, and Dracula.

Her hands found Dracula’s chest and she shoved with all her might. The skin around her neck burned at the violent detachment and she cried out in pain. The toxic fumes still clung to him and she was already choking again as her throat began to burn again.

Trevor twisted in the air; it took less than a second for him to align himself. He drew his arm back and, with all the momentum he could muster, brought the whip down upon Dracula.

He was not the only one to strike.

Alucard had disappeared in a flurry of movement; only a second after he threw Trevor towards Dracula, he teleported nearly in front of him. His golden eyes were emotionless as he thrust the sword through his father’s heart.

Sypha would not risk failure when they were so close. Sparks ignited in her hands and—more than that—the room.

The fumes Dracula had summoned were still thick in the air, thick on his clothes. With a horrified roar that deafened all three, he ignited in flame. Fire, he was familiar with. But not like this.

He twisted and recoiled; his form morphed into strange shapes as he screamed. It was a depraved noise, otherworldly and sickening.

There was no coming back from this.

All the windows in the room burst outwards and the castle creaked like hollow metal. It echoed, and a splintering sound ruptured through the room. Cracks appeared in the walls and Dracula’s flames grew larger and hotter. No longer did he resemble a man; he had the form of some twisting, scaled beast, but it wasn’t a shape he could maintain. Fire shot from his eyes, his mouth. His scream was unending—and then, it was silent.

White light erupted from the center of the room. The energy from the explosion flung the trio across the room and through one of the large, broken windows.

Trevor hit his arm on the way out and Sypha slammed into him and Alucard with enough force that it knocked the breath out of the three of them.

The hunter’s vision went black for a second—or longer; he couldn’t tell. When he opened his eyes again, they were falling. Alucard was below him, staring up the sky. His eyes were hollow and there was an emotion Trevor couldn’t immediately identify, but he could recognize the guilt, the remorse, easily enough.

Sypha’s eyes were half lidded; she was exhausted, but almost looked peaceful.

They were looking up at the sky, and here he was, looking down at both of them. Down at the ground, as they plummeted towards it. He couldn’t hear anything; his ears were ringing too loudly. Vaguely, he thought he could make out the sound of wind whistling past him as they fell.

He was so tired. His chest hurt, and he was certain that his arm was out of socket.

The castle was crumbling behind them. He couldn’t make out much, but he could see great cracks in the wall, and debris falling in the distance. The closer they got to the ground, the further they seemed to fall from the castle.

Death seemed imminent.

He couldn’t estimate how long it would take to collide onto the Earth, and no matter how good his reflexes where, he’d wind up splattered on the ground. Even _if_ he managed to find something to latch his whip onto, he’d tear his arm straight off at this rate. He’d be lucky if the whip didn’t snap in two.

No, they had defeated Dracula. Maybe that’s all their purpose was. It’s not like he’d heard any more of the prophecy beyond that; maybe they’d kept a rest a secret because they thought he’d back out if he knew it said they died, or something.

But, it didn’t matter.

Death didn’t scare him.

A pang in his heart alarmed him, though; _his_ death didn’t matter.

But theirs…

He was still falling a good few yards above his companions, and at this rate he’d have to watch them die before he did.

Trevor wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that. If he had one last request in life, it was that _that didn’t happen_.

Despite everything, the whip was still firmly clutched in his hand. He still had one good arm. It was hard to breathe, hard to focus, but if he didn’t have much left for this world, he could spend the rest of his energy on this. Sypha and Alucard were falling fairly close to each other, but it would be no easy task to reach both of them.

The wind was pushing them in separate ways, but a small stroke of luck pushed the two closer than they had been before, and Trevor took that opportunity to aim. Once more, he put all his strength into lashing the whip out. He had no intention to cause harm; the whip curled around Sypha’s waist and Alucard’s chest and, when he yanked his arm back, the whip pulled taut enough to bring them together. They bumped into each other painlessly. Sypha was exhausted, but she hooked her arm with Alucard’s.

The ground was growing closer and Trevor’s strength had faded. He watched as Alucard glanced over at Sypha. There was a softness in his expression—a silent apology. Sypha didn’t see it. Trevor could tell she was trying to control her breathing.

He drew in a sharp breath and began to coil the whip as best he could around his wrist. Slowly, inch by inch, he pulled himself towards the other two.

He never doubted that he would reach them before they reached the ground, but he was cutting it close. The wind was whipping his hair so quickly against his skin that he felt like it was cutting into his flesh. Sypha and Alucard were cold when he wrapped his arms around them.

He couldn’t find words, and even if he knew what to say, he wasn’t sure he could speak loud enough to be heard. The wind felt like it was choking him and he didn’t dare inhale anymore than he needed.

Not that it mattered.

Alucard was resting his chin against Trevor’s shoulder. He could feel Sypha’s cheek against his own. He drew in a ragged breath; it burned, like he thought it would.

Trevor’s voice was husky when he forced the words: “It’s okay.”

At first, he didn’t know if they’d heard. Then, Alucard wrapped an arm behind him—a reassuring, thankful embrace.

But Sypha said, calmly, “I know.”

Trevor did not have time to question the Speaker; her eyes opened with a fierceness he hadn’t expected. He could see the small blades of grass in the dirt below them.

He didn’t close his eyes. He wasn’t afraid of this.

But then, he didn’t have to be.

Sypha always had something up her sleeve.

He should have recalled their teamwork in the catacombs; he should have known that she had no fear of heights. No matter how exhausted she was, any one of them would have given their life for the others.

Enough blood had been shed today; they’d already lost enough of their own.

Sypha twisted in Trevor’s embrace so that she was facing the ground and with only a few feet to spare, she summoned a great gust of air that propelled them away from their imminent demise. The wind hit the ground with enough force to counter the momentum they’d built up on the way down, but it was by no means a graceful landing.

The gust had not been a straight line down; the wind came from an angle and the force propelled them diagonally—away from not only the ground, but the castle. They rolled, a haphazard mess. The whip had loosened after Trevor reached the other two, thankfully. If it hadn’t, he might have torn off his arm when they rolled. Sypha landed a few feet away, chest heaving, but alive.

Alucard landed atop of Trevor. The hunter groaned in pain, but pain meant that he was _alive_. Or, about to be suffering a very painful death. His arm hurt, his chest hurt, his back hurt.

But Alucard pushed himself up so he could see Trevor and none of that mattered. He didn’t climb off of the hunter, just lifted himself enough so that he could _see_ Trevor. His eyes were golden, and Trevor wasn’t sure he’d ever been so fond of the color as he was in that moment. A smile cracked on his face. “You _are_ you. I wasn’t so sure for a minute, back there.”

Alucard raised a brow; the gesture was small, but it took no small effort.

“Throwing me at Dracula. Wasn’t so sure that was going to end well,” Trevor added between gulps of breath.

“I was going to protect you.”

“You did. You and Sypha,” Trevor said; his neck snapped to the side as he looked at her. She was still breathing and, more than that, she had reached up a hand to rub at her face. She was fixing her hair, brushing the windswept locks out of her eyes so she could see.

Alucard followed Trevor’s gaze with his eyes, but when he was assured that Sypha was alive, his attention returned to the hunter. Alucard had been struggling to speak; the volume of his voice was softening and Trevor could see that he was shutting down. He wasn’t injured, not badly, by what Trevor could see, but exhaustion was all over his face.

Alucard leaned a little closer, until his lips were near Trevor’s ear.

His voice was hoarse with emotion when he whispered, “Thank you.”

Trevor couldn’t see Alucard’s face now, but he didn’t need to. Alucard was a proud man, but neither of the two was particularly adept at dealing with emotions. He could feel the way Alucard’s body tensed and trembled, and he knew that Alucard was either crying, or trying very hard not to.

He drew in a steadying breath and wrapped his good arm around him once more, giving him a tight squeeze.

He stared up at the sky and saw the first of the grey clouds part.

The castle was crumbling and rocks and debris were toppling—thankfully, far enough away from them that he didn’t think they had to worry about Dracula getting any post mortem revenge for his demise. 

Bits of orange and red and purple peered from behind the clouds; the sun must have been setting.

Trevor breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes as he relished the moment.

For the first time in a long while, there was no need to fear the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had meant to make this two chapters, but while I was writing this, I realized I really wanted a follow up! So there will be a third chapter to tie this up (soon!) and I will move on to my next request! Thank you so much for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Gresit was the same hellhole it had always been, only now there weren’t demons prowling in the night. The town was being cleaned, slowly, but there was little trust or camaraderie, and nearly no kindness to spare.

Only barely did the townspeople offer the assistance of the Speakers, and Trevor couldn’t understand why they even tried so hard. Sypha was out again, determined to both change the mind of the people and improve their lifestyle.

You’d think they’d treat their saviors a little better.

It wasn’t like they’d bragged when they returned, but word had gotten around anyway.

The three who had destroyed Dracula.

Trevor had heard all sorts of rumors in the past few days, some of which were kinder than others.

The rumors about Alucard were the reason he kept the dhampir locked away.

Or, at least, the reason why he didn’t pry him from his bed and drag him into town with him.

Alucard was by no means a fragile man; he was younger than Trevor, and yet older in ways the hunger couldn’t express. Growing up with Dracula probably did that to a person; Trevor had been forced to grow up quickly, but with Alucard things were just _different_.

He was quiet and contemplative, as if he were always taking everything so serious and trying to learn as much as he could—and yet, half the time when Trevor spoke to him, Alucard seemed completely oblivious to the actual conversation. He was a dangerous man, full of power and dark magic, and yet more often than not he was simply so _gentle_. He was a combination of paradoxes, but then.

He was a dhampir. He was abnormal.

And he was not doing well.

The people of Wallachia were celebrating outside, but Trevor could not be convinced they deserved the privilege. He was far from an ‘innocent’ man, but he had put far less effort into antagonizing Dracula than they had—and he’d killed the damned man.

He did not celebrate—but then, how could he?

It wasn’t just the injuries. He skulked around the inn they were staying at—a cheap place and nothing fancy, partly because it was all they could afford and partly because they didn’t care where they stayed as long as it had a bed and a roof . 

They had two rooms, next to each other. Despite being in Gresit again, Sypha stayed with her Speaker brethren only while she was working, and she always returned to this inn to rest. There was little privacy between the three, and Trevor and Sypha moved between the rooms so frequently that they could hardly lay claim to any single bed.

But not Alucard.

He had barely spoken since the castle fell, and initiating conversation with him had been a struggle. Sypha and Trevor were persistent, but he’d erected walls he’d never shown them before.

Trevor was in a room by himself, reclining in a chair that he’d tilted so far backwards it was standing on only two legs. His feet were propped on the table in front of him and he scratched the stubble speckling his chin slowly as he mulled over the situation.

He knew Alucard wasn’t sleeping, even if he might have wanted to give them the impression that he was. It was a defensive mechanism; to avoid dealing with the problems, to avoid _talking_ , he’d pretend to sleep.

And they’d humored him, for a week and a half, now.

Trevor didn’t wander far, afraid that Alucard would find some way to hurt himself—or that the people of Walachia would come and hurt him.

The rumors had not all been kind.

There had been some survivors, from the villages Alucard had attacked while under his father’s control. Word had spread of the ‘demon’s son’. If the townspeople held any value to the rumor, Trevor could at least appreciate that none had acted on it. Yet.

But then, they’d be fools; if they believed that Alucard _was_ the monster who slaughtered whole towns, they’d have been absolute idiots to think they could fight him.

Gresit was not full of smart people, though. Even with the church out of the picture.

Out the window, he could see the abandoned church. Broken windows caught the light of the setting sun, and even now it looked like the sky was stained red.

Perhaps it always would be; this land might never heal. Dracula had left a blemish on this earth, a scar, and Trevor couldn’t argue that it wasn’t deserved.

So much could have been done differently. So many people could have been spared.

If only they hadn’t killed his damned wife.

There was a noise in the hallway that made Trevor tilt his head to the side and try to hear what was going on. He could make out a faint clattering, footsteps, and hushed voices. They lingered outside of his room for a moment too long and his hand slowly inched towards the whip that sat on the desk.

The voices stopped. The footsteps picked up again.

It was another false alarm.

He breathed a sigh of relief and leaned forward, settling the chair evenly on the ground. He couldn’t stand the solitude; even Alucard’s unbearable silence was better than this.

At least Alucard was company—even if he didn’t have anything to contribute.

With a gruff sigh, Trevor pushed himself up. It was by habit, not necessity, that he looped his whip at his belt and stalked out of his room and into Alucard’s.

As he expected, it was dark. The curtains were drawn and he could make out Alucard’s form beneath the blankets. His coat, bloodstained and torn, was draped over the back of a nearby chair. His sword was discarded on the ground beneath the table.

Out of sight.

Alucard was pretending to sleep again, so Trevor pressed his luck. He closed the door behind him loudly.

Alucard did not move.

Trevor rattled the door handle and fumbled with the lock as much as he could.

Alucard did not move.

Trevor stomped across the room and made enough noise it might have fit a man twice his size.

Alucard did not move.

Finally, Trevor dragged the chair across the floor; even he winced at the screeching noise it made.

Alucard still did not move.

Trevor’s hand lingered on the back of the chair as he debated taking a seat in it; Alucard must have been used to him sitting by his bedside by now. Sometimes, Trevor was quiet. Other times, he just _talked_. About anything—everything—he could think about. He’d talk about his childhood, his home, the things he could cook, where he’d been.

He didn’t talk about fighting, or monsters, though.

Alucard didn’t need that.

But then, Trevor didn’t know _what_ he needed.

Impatiently, he kicked the chair aside and went straight for the bed. Alucard was taking up a decent portion of it, but Trevor was determined not to be ignored. When he collapsed onto the brittle mattress, his weight alone was enough to force Alucard to roll just slightly. He could see how hard the dhampir was trying to keep a straight face, to keep his eyes closed.

Trevor gripped his shoulder tightly and jostled him until he was greeted with those cold, fierce golden eyes.

“Oh,” he greeted. “So you are alive.”

Alucard did not respond, but his silent glare was good enough for now. He was _looking_ at Trevor, and it was more communication than they’d actually had in over a week, now.

It was a half hearted glare, though. There was no resentment behind it.

Just another wall.

“Sypha’s worried about you,” Trevor said, shifting positions so he could make himself more comfortable. He propped his back up against the headboard and looked down at Alucard. 

Trevor pretended to be indifferent, pretended like _he_ wasn’t the one that always seemed to be asking her what they should do. He pretended not to watch Alucard closely as he waited for a response.

It was subtle; no words, but Alucard look away guiltily.

It was a start, though.

“You haven’t been eating,” Trevor continued. Alucard didn’t argue it, but there was no reason to. He hadn’t left his bed and there hadn’t been any reports of vampire attacks.

“The speakers keep pestering me to see when you’re coming out. Apparently you’re still a legend. They’ve got a lot they want to talk about but,” he forced a chuckle, “ _Speakers_ , right? All talk.”

Still no response.

Trevor had no plans to relent. “If you stay in here for much longer, you’ll start to grow mold. I know you might be fine with that, what with how content you are in a coffin, but for the rest of the civilized world, it’s a little frowned upon.”

Alucard grimaced and sighed heavily; for the first time in days, Trevor saw him _move_.

He reached a hand up to rub at his eyes.

And then, he muttered, “I’m tired, Belmont.”

“Still? You’ve been in bed all week,” Trevor said, trying not to sound as happy just to hear his _voice_ again. It was weak and raspy, but it was a part of Alucard he had _missed_.

Alucard grunted softly and alternated between rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He seemed to barely have the energy for even that. “No,” he mumbled. “…It’s not like that.”

Trevor tilted his head to the side and looked down at Alucard. It wasn’t surprising that Alucard wasn’t looking at him, but it _was_ surprising how frail he looked. 

Another contrast, the fragility beneath those strong features.

“Oh?” he asked, trying to urge Alucard to continue.

“…I can hear them celebrating,” Alucard murmured, glancing towards his closed window. “…Celebrating my father’s death.”

Trevor nodded quietly.

“…Do you?” Alucard asked suddenly, and their eyes met again. Only, Alucard’s gaze was piercing and insistent. Desperate.

Trevor was glad he didn’t have to lie. “No.”

Little relief passed over Alucard’s face, but Trevor saw him relax just slightly. The blonde nodded and closed his eyes tiredly. “I don’t, either.”

“I know.”

“Do you think me weak, Belmont?”

The question took him by surprise and his first instinct was to snort. “You, weak? No, far from it. Why, do you think yourself weak?”

Alucard’s silence might as well have been a confession.

Trevor reached up to rub at the back of his neck and he grumbled some tired, feral noise under his breath until he found the words he needed. “It’s family, Alucard. I know what it’s like.”

“With all due respect, I don’t think you’re father was like mine.”

“No,” Trevor agreed. “But, if church hadn’t killed him when they burned _my_ mother, maybe he would have been.”

Alucard seemed contemplative and nodded, just slightly.

“You’re not responsible for what he did,” Trevor continued. He tried to force the gruffness out of his voice but even now it was hard to soften himself. Alucard wasn’t looking at him but he could tell that the man was listening intently. “None of it. The Dracula I know was a monster. The Dracula _they_ know, was a monster. But I suppose the Dracula _you_ knew wasn’t. And if you miss that, fine. But he was already dead by the time we killed him. The moment your mother died, he did, too. And if you want to have those happy memories, if you want to remember him for what he was, that’s fine. That doesn’t make you weak.” His looked down at Alucard. “It makes you human.”

Something in Alucard changed again. The barriers he’d built, the walls he’d put him, must have crumbled. At least, a bit. The worry on his face melted and he looked as if a great weight had been lifted from him.

Trevor had said the right thing. He reached down and ran his calloused fingers through Alucard’s tangled hair. It smoothed almost immediately, but more importantly than that, Alucard seemed to enjoy the sensation. He tilted his head just slightly—an invitation to continue.

“Thank you, Belmont,” he said quietly, as if he spoke any louder he might ruin the serenity of the moment.

Trevor simply shrugged and continued combing his fingers through the dhampir’s hair. “It’s just the truth.”

Alucard even managed to smile, to chuckle softly, but the moment was short lived and a dark shadow passed across his face again. “I believe you. But,” he raised his hand to his chest as if the scar his father had given him still pained him, “I’m just so tired. I feel so heavy. I don’t know what there is in this world for me. Even with my mother’s blood, I am cursed.”

Trevor tilted his head just slightly. He watched Alucard closely, like a hunter would his prey, but it was only out of concern.

“You’re not cursed,” he grumbled, scratching at a phantom itch on his chin.

“I am,” Alucard insisted. “There is a darkness in me that I don’t know if I shall ever be free of. I’m not like you, or Sypha. You have a purpose in this world.”

“No more than you,” Trevor suggested, but Alucard shook his head and continued, “The Belmont name has been redeemed. The people will look to you for guidance, for structure. Your lineage will be honored, and your kin will no doubt follow in your footsteps. Sypha will bring comfort and protection and knowledge, as Speakers do. But I…”

He hesitated for a second and took the opportunity to compose himself before he continued, “I am a monster. In name, in blood, in action. I have fought for my father before, but I was not always under his control. I learned what I know from him. And I know the man he was before he lost my mother, and I cannot help but wonder if I may one day lose myself as he did. Even with the best intentions.”

There was a strange pressure in Trevor’s stomach; it felt as if his innards were twisting uncomfortably. He continued to play with Alucard’s hair and asked, “What do you want to do about it, then?”

Alucard sighed heavily. “I don’t know. I loathe to think I could be the man he was. I want to stop that. I hurt, now. In the way it hurt when I lost my mother, only…I did this to myself. I know that killing my father was necessary, but I can’t help but wonder if there was ever any other way. If I could have said something differently, done something differently. I mourn him. I am glad that Wallachia is safe, but there is a pain in my heart that I cannot manage. I am alone in this world.”

“You’re not alone,” Trevor said softly. “You have Sypha and I.”

“But I won’t forever.”

Guilt, again. Because Alucard was still very different from them. He may have only been half vampire, but he was still an immortal and Trevor and Sypha were young, but they didn’t have the same future he did.

For a moment, Trevor faltered, but he quickly resumed stroking Alucard’s hair.

“We believe in you, Alucard. We aren’t going to abandon you so quickly. Besides, like you said. The Belmont name has been restored and my kin will walk in my footsteps. If ever a threat should arise again, I would be honored to have you fight by their side.”

“…Do you mean that? Even with what you saw of me.”

“Of course,” Trevor replied easily. “You broke free before, you could do it again. You’re stronger now.”

“I don’t feel so. I feel weak, and tired. Like I need to rest.”

Like he needed to seal himself away until he could sort through his guilt. A solitary confinement, both punishment for his deeds and a reprieve from the hardships of the world.

“You can rest, Alucard,” Trevor finally said. “How long do you need?”

“I don’t know. But I cannot sleep up here. Gresit makes too much noise and brings me too many foul memories.”

“I don’t blame you. I’d prefer a coffin to this shithole, myself.”

Alucard allowed a smile, but it was brief. “I never thought I’d miss my catacombs.”

“I suppose they don’t call you the Sleeping Savior for nothing. It’s quite a title to live up to.” Though Trevor could appreciate the fact that his life wasn’t in danger, domestic life didn’t particularly call to him and he’d been restless ever since they settled into this inn. He didn’t really mind the idea of getting out and _going_ somewhere. “When do you want to leave?”

“Tonight,” Alucard said; his mind was already made him. “After Gresit is sleeping, so I can have a little privacy. I don’t want to deal with their heckling.”

“We’ll leave after you say goodbye to Sypha. If you don’t talk to her, you know she’ll march right down there and wake you up.”

“Yes, I had considered as much. I hope I don’t upset her.”

“She’ll understand. I said before, she’s worried about you. There’s nothing wrong with getting away from everything for a bit, taking some time for yourself. Resting up. You’ll be as good as new in to time.”

“Will you stay?” Alucard asked, suddenly. “Just for now. Until Sypha gets back.”

The sun had already begun to dip below the horizon and Trevor didn’t imagine Sypha would be more than a few hours. He debated for only a second before he nodded and settled into the bed. It was strangely easy to make himself comfortable in the bed, even with another body next to him. Sleeping on roots and rocks had made him appreciate even the shoddiest linen. “I guess I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

Alucard was cold next to him, but Trevor didn’t mind.

They lay in silence, and Trevor worried that he was failing somehow, making things worse, but Alucard’s breathing was oddly peaceful. Trevor felt something cold curl around his pinky and it took him a moment to realize it was Alucard’s.

It was a strange, childlike gesture, unbefitting the half vampire son of Lord Dracula.

...But that was not all Alucard was, because in that moment he was little more than the orphaned child of such.

Alone, and lost, in world that had no place for him.

They lay in silence, for a time. Neither slept, neither spoke.

But they were there, together, and that seemed to be all that Alucard needed.

The sun had dipped below the horizon and the sky was darkening quickly when Sypha arrived. There was a rattling across the room and Trevor just barely had time to lift his head from the pillow before Sypha shuffled in, arms full of fresh fruit. Her eyes were alight, positively glistening with happiness at the gift she’d received.

People were thanking her. People were _grateful_ to her.

People weren’t starving anymore.

Her mouth was open in greeting but the words froze on her lips when she eyed the two men. “You boys look comfortable.”

Trevor scowled, and though he begrudgingly threw his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, he did not tug his hand from Alucard’s.

The dhampir did that himself, but only after an odd silence descended on the room.

Goodbyes were hard enough without an audience, and he and Alucard had a plan, and to his knowledge, it hadn’t changed. He cast Alucard a quick glance, and the blonde man only nodded.

Trevor needed an excuse to step out, and with as much tact and grace as usual he muttered, “Gotta take a piss,” before shoving himself off the bed and stalking across the room.

He didn’t miss the way Sypha scowled at him, as she carefully lay the fruits on the table.

She had no idea what she was in for. She was still too elated, too hopeful.

Trevor’s head hung as he stepped out. He tried to leave the building, tried to give them complete privacy, but _leaving_ just felt wrong. IF they needed him…

He managed to make his way down the hall, to a half rotten crate. He nudged it with his foot, and he sat.

And he waited.

The moment the door closed behind him, Sypha knew something was wrong. She was too clever not to realize that the lack of banter or snark from Trevor meant he was making an escape, not tending to his natural needs.

Her eyes narrowed as she tried to assess the situation, but with too many options and too little patience, she looked to Alucard.

“What has he done?”

Alucard offered her a small smile, though it was devoid of much humor. “He has stayed with me in my time of need and given me a moment to speak with you in private.”

“Your time of need?” she parroted, blinking. 

Alucard nodded. “...He is a surprisingly good listener. I think.”

“That is a surprise.” Her heart was pounding in her chest and she watched him. “...What is going on, Alucard?”

“I am tired,” he said, eyes downcast. He sat upon the bed, legs thrown over to the side and fingers laced together in his lap. “...I need to leave.”

“Where would you go? Alucard, you can sleep here,” she insisted, but when he glanced up at her, she bit her tongue.

His eyes said what his words never could.

There was no light in them, only a cold pain, barely kept in check. A hollow emptiness that was consuming him, more and more, as each day passed. She had seen it before, but not up close, not like this. This was the first time his walls were so lowered that he allowed his vulnerability to show.

Her heart hurt for him, and her brows knit. She moved to his side and sat down next to him, leaning close and resting her hand against his cheek.

He was cold, like stone. Already shut off from the world.

“The catacombs? You deserve better.”

“It is fine. It is safe,” he answered, closing his eyes. He leaned against her hand, just slightly. 

She was warm, and welcoming, and everything in this world that he could not find within himself.

“Alucard.” She didn’t have much more she could say, but her voice was soft, and pleading. She couldn’t ask anything of him. She coudln’t ask him to carry this burden. “...Alucard,” she said, softer. “...We will miss you if you leave.”

“It is better this way,” he murmured. 

For who? For them? For him? She bit her tongue and forced herself to nod.

“Where we found you, is that where you intend to go?”

He nodded silently.

“...Well, good,” she said, sitting up taller. She sucked in a breath and tried to look as confident as possible. “Then I’ll know where to find you when it’s time for you to wake up.”

Another small smile, either because he was humoring her, or because she had hit a nerve in him. “I cannot thank you enough, Sypha. I would be lost without you.”

Lost, more than he already was. At least this way…

At least this way, destiny was in his hands.

“We are a good team. We’re stronger together.”

A silent plea to stay, in her own way, but she could not speak the words. She was stubborn, but he was, too.

He nodded, but sighed. “...I just wanted to say goodbye, and thank you.”

Her lip twitched with emotion that she didn’t want to show. She didn’t want him to see her cry, and she turned away. “I’m not good at goodbyes.”

“I hope you never are,” he said, reaching to give her hand a squeeze. “I wish you a long life, and a world of happiness. And I hope this is the last goodbye you will ever have to say.”

He wasn’t helping the tears. She had to laugh so she wouldn’t cry, and even then she still needed to scrub her sleeve against her eyes and wipe away the dampness. “You’re not going to sleep forever.”

He didn’t answer, but she was insistent, “Just a bit. Are you...are you traveling there alone?”

Alucard was quiet. “I think I will be escorted.”

She drew in a breath and nodded. “Do you think he will make it back by himself or shall I come along to?”

Alucard just took her hand, and squeezed, once more.

This was goodbye. They both knew it. He didn’t answer, and she didn’t press. They held hands for a moment, and then he stood. She didn’t let go of his hand and just bowed her head. For a moment, they remained linked, and then finally, painfully, she released his hand. “I know I’ll see you again.”

“I hope so,” he said. In that moment of stillness, he reached to rest his hand on her shoulder, and then he drew away.

Sypha didn’t look up. She heard his footsteps, the door open. The door close.

She didn’t care to greet the silence, so instead she just lay down on the still-warm bed and drew the blankets close.

The trip to the catacombs was silent, but there was no awkwardness. An occasional comment on the terrain. Alucard did not need a chaperone, but Trevor accompanied him as if he were worried for him. As if he expected Alucard might plummet to his death or wind up ‘accidentally’ staked on a rusty old pipe or something. 

It might have been a trick of his mind, but Trevor slowed the nearer they got to his safehold. They walked in silence, still, but it was agonizing. Every step was heavier than the last, and Alucard was filled both with dread and relief when his room came into view.

His coffin.

Trevor stopped and put his hands on his hips. They were, in that moment, frozen in a memory they’d left behind an eternity ago. Their first meeting, and their last, Alucard thought. No matter what the humans thought, they were naive and innocent. They could not imagine the grief in his chest.

He’d have killed himself if they would have let him, but maybe he was a coward. Maybe he feared he’d fail, that he’d turn into some evil, undead beast.

No, this way he was himself, but sleeping, and out of the way. A threat forgotten, a threat buried.

He held his head high and walked past Trevor. Each step was forced and deliberate, and he reached his coffin with his head held high. One more breath.

He slipped into it, closing his eyes. It was not a bed, but it was not uncomfortable. It was designed for comfort, and for recuperation. Last time, for his body. This time, for his mind.

He did not remove his clothes or even part with his sword. Instead, he sank into the plush fabric lining of the coffin and tucked it to the side.

Sleep seemed so close, so within reach. But Trevor was there, by his side. He was wearing an unreadable expression, and wound up just taking a seat next to him. The coffin was propped up at a slight angle but he could clearly make out the hunter.

Fatigue gripped him; being in the coffin sent a wave of dizziness over him, but it felt like he could finally relax. He could finally slip away.

This was the only silence that was uncomfortable, and Alucard decided to break it. “I’m so tired, Trevor.”

The hunter nodded. Alucard’s eyes were half lidded, and unfocused; he was vaguely glancing at some distant spot across the room. “...I feel it.”

The sleep was coming. He could will himself into this. The only thing holding him back was one last goodbye.

Sypha couldn’t come. He couldn’t focus enough to sleep if he had to watch her sorrowful eyes, her trembling lip.

But Trevor was impassive, a statue. Supportive, and strong. They had each been damaged by their pasts. They understood this life. This decision.

Trevor reached over and placed a soft hand on Alucard’s shoulder. “Then rest. For as long as you need.”

A soft smile appeared on Alucard’s face; it was a ghost of anything actually happy, but the shadow of it was as much comfort as he could provide.

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” Trevor promised, giving the shoulder a little squeeze.

The smile softened just a bit. Maybe Trevor knew. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe in fifty years he’d have forgotten about Alucard, and he’d have spawned a generation or two of little Belmonts to continue on.

Maybe, one day, Alucard could meet them.

But this isolation was a punishment as much as it was a reprieve. Guilt consumed him.

This was goodbye.

Trevor’s hand moved from his shoulder to tangle in Alucard’s pale hair. He stroked gently, in the way his mother used to do when he was having a fitful sleep. Alucard wondered who taught Trevor such a gentle thing, but his thoughts were easing away, like grains of sand pulled out to see by endless waves of darkness.

Trevor could have left him there. He could have delivered him and departed, but he didn’t.

Instead, he stayed by the coffin, stroking his hair, until his hand had cramped. Until his legs and feet were numb. Until he was uncomfortable from sleep or hunger.

And then he stayed another hour longer, just to make sure.

Alucard did not breathe while he slept, not like this. He looked paler, like white marble. Even his hair seemed to have lost its luster and sheen.

He was sleeping, only one step away from death. But, he wasn’t dead.

There was a chance for him.

Trevor finally stood, bones cracking noisily.

Maybe not in his lifetime, but maybe in the next. He hoped Alucard would find his peace. For now, Trevor had a pain in his heart that wasn’t there before, but he could carry it. 

He covered the coffin by himself, moving the great stone slab to shroud the dhampir in peaceful darkness. Once in place, something triggered; gears began to turn, and the coffin slowly lowered back into the ground.

Trevor stood and watched, as if he expected Alucard to throw off the lid and change his mind.

He was no better than goodbyes than Sypha.

Alone, in an empty room, he felt only crushing despair. It was cold, and uncomfortable, and there was no light or love.

Perhaps, in a week or so, Alucard would decide he was done.

Perhaps, in a week or so, Trevor and Sypha could both come down here to see.

At the very least, they could leave flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long to update! Thank you so much for your patience! (But even with all that time, I didn't take the time to proofread, so please forgive any mistakes!) I still hope to do more fanfiction and will continue to work through all of the requests everyone has sent in. I have been inspired after season 2 and have some ideas I want to share, and hope I see some requests from there, too! Thank you for all the kind comments during my absence!


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